


Like A Climbing Plant

by ribbonelle



Series: Long and Mad [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Insecurity, Internal Conflict, M/M, Pre-Delphi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:39:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6324196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbonelle/pseuds/ribbonelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t think too much about it. He never did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Climbing Plant

**Author's Note:**

> someone asked for 'fluffy, consensual Ratchet/Pharma loving ' and i totally misinterpreted their request lol
> 
> this is not entirely fluffy tbh, but its based on pharma's mindset in 'A Beneficial Alliance'. wrote this like 10 months ago, but for the sake of putting it into a series, here.

They didn’t get much time off. About two days for every orn, and it had been that way as long as they had worked in the DMF. Rarer still was that both Pharma and Ratchet had the same day without work. It was always either one of them, so one could be handling patients while the other was absent. The days they were off together were usually due to an event; public holidays, the facility’s routine maintenance, something.

Ratchet usually spent these days on personal matters. Like catching up with his favourite show, or reading his backlog of medical journals, maybe replying to social media. Sleep. Being so used to the hectic atmosphere of the DMF, however, days where he was free seemed almost unnecessarily long. Sure, he’d miss them terribly when they were over, but that was how things were. One didn’t miss something till it was gone.

And the day would seem longer when he was alone.

Pharma usually rejected his invitations of spending the days off together (he only offered when he was feeling like having company) with a scoff and a haughty tone. “As if I don’t see you every _day_ , Ratchet. Surely you get bored of me, too? Unless you don’t, because that’s not impossible, either,” he’d say, and flash Ratchet an even haughtier smirk before leaving to go clubbing, or preening, or whatever it was fliers as vain as Pharma did.

But when Pharma agreed to spend time with Ratchet, it was really, really nice. It didn’t happen often. They’d simply hang out in either Ratchet’s or Pharma’s place, and take things easy. The fact that they had a casual thing going on made everything even more pleasant, naturally; it was one of the more opportune moments where Ratchet could really get into sharing pleasure with Pharma.

Right now, however, he was scanning through a datapad, having downloaded the recent newsfeed of Iacon’s current happenings. Nothing substantial. Pharma was at the foot of his berth, lying on his front across it, his own datapad in hand. The mech had his feet up and they collided every so often as he kicked a little, the slight clanging noise somewhat therapeutic.

The calm didn’t last for long. Ratchet noticed Pharma’s wings flex a few times, apparently agitated, and then the flier was pushing himself up off the berth. He glanced at his colleague, and Pharma was on him in a second.

He had a whole lot of Pharma in his lap suddenly, and as tempting as it was to keep on reading about some Cybertronian celebrity who got bonded to someone a little less famous, Ratchet put his datapad aside. Pharma leaned in closer, hands resting on Ratchet’s shoulders.

“Tell me something I want to hear,” Pharma said, tilting his head to the side. Ratchet was expecting a seduction, but Pharma’s tone was simply curious. Tinged with something Ratchet couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it sure wasn’t meant to be sexy. He wondered what Pharma had read that lead to this.

Ratchet quirked an optic ridge, “Very specific, Pharma. I…am glad you’re here with me right now?”

Pharma smirked, looking less expectant, more cocky, “Of course you are. I’m amazing company.”

“You are,” Ratchet agreed, despite how he rolled his optics. Pharma had a lovely frame, nevertheless, he couldn’t stop himself from tracing the flier’s sides with his hands, reaching back to thumb at the sharp edges of Pharma’s back kibble, “It’s nice to have you here with me.”

Ratchet then leaned in to kiss some part of Pharma’s body, but was halted by a hand on his chest, “Nice try. But not yet. Tell me more.”

He grunted, a little irritated, “Well, you’re making me antsy, is that what you want to hear?” Ratchet relented anyway, especially since Pharma was tracing nonsense on the plexiglass of his chest, “You _are_ great company. You’re fun to banter with. And I suppose I do need to practice on my complimenting skills, there are afts that need to be kissed if I want to make it somewhere in life.”

Pharma snickered, and Ratchet suddenly had an inkling of what to say.

“You’re a good doctor, Pharma.”

Pharma’s wings flared, and he seemed to light up after hearing those words, “I am?”

“You are,” Ratchet agreed, “It’s one of your better qualities. It’s an honor working alongside you.” A sigh left Pharma, the sound oddly full of bliss, and it was he who kissed Ratchet then. Pharma had his issues; they weren’t inherently terrible, Ratchet didn’t mind it. He would even offer an audial if Pharma needed one, but the flier had always been adamant about not discussing his personal problems. Ratchet wouldn’t force him to do anything.

It was distracting how Pharma licked at his lip components, tugging at them with his denta gently. He almost didn’t hear Pharma’s quiet words, “Would you swear on it?”

Ratchet stole another kiss, sliding his arms around Pharma’s waist, “If it was required of me? Definitely.”

“Well, at least you’d know how good I am,” Pharma laughed, though it didn’t sound too genuine, but he kissed Ratchet again, demanding. Ratchet did what he usually does: he went with it. Pharma had wrapped his arms around Ratchet’s shoulders and they kissed passionately, fronts colliding with each other. Pharma always kissed like he wanted to consume, and some part of Ratchet loved that. But he made an effort to slow things down, guiding Pharma’s face with gentle hands to pepper kisses over the flier’s faceplates, making Pharma shudder.

And when Ratchet whispered a quiet, “Yes. I’d know,” against Pharma’s chevron, the grateful noise Pharma replied with was reassuring enough.

//

(After, when Pharma was sound asleep next to him and Ratchet was sleepily checking his messages, Ratchet saw the notification concerning an interview he had a few weeks ago; some channel who wanted to ask him about his profession, calling him ‘the best medic in Cybertron’, some exaggerated publicity stunt; it was just recently published online. Ratchet could care less about fame. He didn’t think too much about it. He never did.)


End file.
